


Only When You Love Me

by MissTaken4Mad



Category: As Told By Ginger
Genre: F/F, F/M, Jealous!Miranda, Onesided!Courtney/Miranda, Smart!Ginger, mentions of underage alcohol consumption, repost from ffn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTaken4Mad/pseuds/MissTaken4Mad
Summary: Because they're just stupid teenage girls with stupid, selfish hearts.





	Only When You Love Me

It's sophomore year the first time it happens, and it feels like maybe it should have happened before now, like it's all so anticlimactic now that it's taken so long to build up.

Courtney's wasted and Miranda's ready to strangle Will Patterson (not that she'd ever particularly _liked_ him) for trying to lead her up to his bedroom to do things that make Miranda feel sick to her stomach for some reason she so _hasn't_ been thinking about since puberty. She kicks him where it counts and grabs Courtney's wrist and yanks her down the stairs, feeling only slightly guilty for using such force with her best friend, at least until Courtney opens her mouth.

"Mi _randa_ , what was that for? He wanted to show me his tr-trophy colleshion," Courtney slurs, and Miranda finds herself gripping the girl's arm even harder, to the point that the blonde lets out a quiet yelp of pain. Miranda almost wishes she felt guilty. What kind of person was she, if she could so easily hurt the one person she lo- no, not loved.

Never loved.

But even so, rules like that never really apply to Miranda. People aren't supposed to be able to be evil and bad and petty through-and-through, either, but Miranda feels like she's managed that one, as well. It's all these adults and people in white lab coats that think everyone has to be boxed up- emotions have to be rational and sorted before they can be felt.

But there's nothing right or rational about how Miranda feels.

Even back at Lucky Junior High, she made 'that Foutley girl's' life hell for the way she was always crushing on the same boys as Miranda, always being...well, _Foutley_. But it wasn't that, not really (not at all). Somehow, poor, plain Ginger Foutley had managed to catch Courtney's attention in a way that Miranda once had- in a way that made Courtney take Miranda for granted. And Miranda hated her for it.

 _Hated_ her.

And maybe it wasn't only that. Maybe it was also a little bit about the way Courtney's eyes always seemed to shine a little brighter around Foutley, or the hurt look she would adopt whenever Miranda actually succeeded in keeping them apart. After a while she'd just stopped trying, because what use was keeping Ginger away from Courtney if all Courtney would do was wish she was there anyway?

"Mi _randa_ ," Courtney repeats, forcing the dark-haired girl from her thoughts. "Where're we going, Mi _randa_?" she asks, stumbling slightly as she tries to keep up with Miranda's brisk gait, and Miranda tries not to dwell too long on how adorable Courtney is as she tries to keep up her prim attitude, even when completely inebriated. Miranda does not find _anyone_ adorable.

"I'm taking you home," she says crisply, though her voice is coarse with repressed emotion. "Your mom's out tonight, right?" And Blake's over at Foutley's place, she knows; he's hardly around anymore, and Miranda sees how much it takes out of Courtney that her brother is so distant now. High school's changed absolutely everything, they always knew it would, but she suspects they never thought it would happen quite so _fast_. "Courtney, you have to work with me. I can't _carry_ you all the way."

Courtney giggles and falls against Miranda with all her weight, and though she's small (smaller than Miranda would like), Miranda isn't expecting it, and they both topple to the ground. "Then don't," she says, pressed against Miranda's front, just barely able to lift her own weight enough to steady herself above her friend. She grins down at the darker girl, blonde hair falling into unnaturally bright eyes, her glittering eye shadow illuminating them in the silver moonlight, and as beautiful as it makes her seem, it makes her sadness more apparent than ever, as well. Here, now, drunk and senseless, Courtney is _Courtney_ again for the first time in a while. There are no fake smiles, no laughs at jokes that aren't funny to begin with, no flinging herself at whatever boy suits her current needs.

And there's no one else, no Will Patterson, no Foutley. It's just Courtney and Miranda again, after so long, it's finally just them (like it used to be, like it should be). "You're wasted, Courtney," Miranda says when she sees the look in her best friend's eyes. Her heart should be speeding up here- it should feel like her entire existence has been leading up to this moment, like her life up until now was all just one bad teen romance novel and this is the happy ending.

But it doesn't.

Because it's just her and Drunk!Courtney, the girl who won't remember this in the morning, the girl who will always belong to someone else. Someone who's not Miranda.

"But I love you, Miranda," Courtney giggles, brushing a clumsy thumb over soft, full lips. "You know that."

"Do I?" Miranda asks, then instantly scolds herself when Courtney's face falls, and the blonde resembles someone whose puppy has just been kicked to death. Miranda is just such a horrible person, really; what was she thinking, asking such questions of Courtney when she's drunk? Asking such questions of Courtney _at all_? "Sorry, Courtney, bad joke. Of course I know that."

And then Courtney _smiles_ , smiles as if nothing's wrong, as if it really were that easy to accept Miranda's half-assed apology. She _smiles_ and in that moment the stars go gray behind her and her white-blonde hair and beautiful, innocent smile.

And then everything's blurry, because Courtney's getting closer and closer, and Miranda can feel warm, vodka-scented breath against her lips, sending her into an extremely confusing state somewhere between euphoria and bitter resignation. She shouldn't let this happen- if she were any kind of friend, she would push Courtney away.

But Miranda is such a horrible, selfish girl, and the thought is gone as quickly as it's occurred to her, and a moment later it doesn't even matter anymore because she's not thinking at all.

* * *

The second time is two years later, and at the time it feels like the end, like this is their goodbye to public school forever.

Weird as it is, they're all at Foutley's house this time. Her mom is out of town and Carl and Blake have long-since disappeared upstairs. Miranda feels nauseous even being here, but Courtney's talked her into "living a little" just this once, "for the sake of senior year".

Not that Courtney's ever had to talk Miranda into anything.

Currently, Courtney's standing by the bowl of spiked punch, laughing with Foutley as if she's just the funniest girl in the whole fucking world.

Miranda hates herself for being so jealous all the time, for _caring_ that Courtney is starting to spend less and less time with her and more and more time with Will Patterson. She hates that she's so obvious, hates that she can't put aside her jealousy when Courtney actually _does_ have time for her.

" _What do you want with me when you could be eating lunch with_ Will _?_ "

Courtney doesn't understand- she's always so _confused_ when Miranda gets this way, and Miranda isn't sure whether to be insulted or grateful that her best friend seems to know her so little.

She drinks so much nowadays that it's becoming her image, and Miranda just doesn't know what to think anymore.

"Move along, Foutley," she snarls, glaring when the red-head stares, and leads Courtney out to the porch. Sitting the girl down on the swinging bench, she holds her hand out for the cup. "Give it here, Courtney."

Courtney sighs and shoves the cup at Miranda, lips pursed in a petulant pout. By the time Miranda's set the cup down far away from the blonde, though, Courtney's wearing a smug, knowing expression that Miranda _really_ doesn't like the looks of at all.

"You don't have to be so jealous of Ginger, you know," Courtney declares, not quite drunk, but far from sober at the same time.

"I'm not _jealous_ of _Foutley_ ," Miranda snarks. Courtney only giggles and claims her arm, leaning heavily against Miranda's shoulder.

"You're rather cute when you're jealous, Miranda," Courtney says, "at least when you're not being such a bitch about it." Blunt as ever. Miranda huffs and folds her arms stoically over her chest, waiting for the alcohol to really begin to effect Courtney so that she wouldn't have to deal with this uncharacteristically shrewd side of her best friend.

And it's ten minutes later when she feels Courtney fall into her side, giggling, one leg swung over her lap- feels Courtney's warm, wet lips pressing to her collarbone, and Miranda drops her stoic front just a little, still staring straight out ahead of her. And then she sees Foutley staring right back. Staring at them, staring at Courtney, staring and staring and seeing right through everything Miranda's tried so hard to conceal.

So she turns her head and allows Courtney the contact she so desperately wants, swings her legs up on either side of the blonde as if it doesn't mean a thing. They're just teenage girls, and this is what they do. They're only drunk, senseless teenage girls.

But Foutley knows Miranda isn't drunk. Miranda sees it in her eyes. And that's when nothing starts to matter anymore, because Foutley _knows_ , and it's not as if she's going to tell anyone. She's too good, too nice. Not like Miranda.

No one will ever know.

No one will ever know about the time Courtney Griping just _almost_ belonged to her.

"I love you, Miranda," Courtney says an hour later, when they're all worn out and wasted and lying in a rather awkward position across Foutley's bed (Miranda had made sure it was Foutley's bed- made sure Foutley was watching when they went in, daring her to say something, anything). She's hardly awake and keeps stroking Miranda's tricep for some odd reason, her head resting heavily on Miranda's taut stomach.

"I know," Miranda replies, her fingers slipping through thin, blonde hair.

She never says it back, because then it would mean something, and that's more than Miranda is willing to admit aloud. Courtney never seems to mind.

_I love you, I love you too, but we're only stupid, teenage girls with stupid, selfish hearts. Those words don't mean anything here._

* * *

Four years later and now it's really ( _finally_ ) the last time. There were other times, too, so many and so blurry and so similar that she doesn't bother to count anymore.

It starts just the same as ever, and really it's what happens after that counts, as Courtney lies on her side, looking at Miranda with such gentle, genuine affection that for a moment Miranda forgets she's wasted. But then, as gentle, pale fingers work their way through thick, dark hair, she catches a glimpse of gold out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she feels sick.

She gets to her feet only to have a pair of slender arms latch around her waist. Miranda sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to be patient, to be _firm_. It isn't as if she can't break free of the hold- Courtney has always been the weaker of the two, even before she stopped eating.

(And _damnit_ , if he can't get her to love herself like she used to, Miranda _will_ destroy him. In this, the end, the final act, Miranda would even rather it be Foutley than him. At least Foutley always cared. But Foutley's off somewhere with her own life, making goo-goo eyes at Darren Patterson again like they're all back in junior high ((she isn't too proud to admit that Foutley was always too good for him, now that it's come to this)).

It's not Courtney's strength that's holding her back.

It never has been.

"This is it, Courtney," she says quietly, in a gentle tone that only Courtney and maybe Darren Patterson (back when he mattered) have ever heard from her. "You knew that."

"But I _love_ you, Miranda," Courtney moans, her tone emphatic, as if she will simply _die_ if Miranda won't believe her.

And Miranda almost says it back this time. Almost.

But Courtney _won't_ die, she won't even remember. She'll just wake up tomorrow and forget it all again ( _again_ ), and she'll belong to Will Patterson.

And not Miranda.

Because Courtney's only Miranda's when she's wasted, when she's nobody else's problem.

Courtney's only Miranda's when she _loves_ her, and Courtney only loves Miranda when she's drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> Another repost from FanFiction! I love As Told By Ginger, it was so...real. And gay. It pretty much started the gay cartoon thing. Courtney was all but obsessed with Ginger despite the fact that Ginger was just a normal girl- that's WHY she was so fascinated, in fact. Apparently the show creators were actually going to have her confess to Ginger, but it was obviously nixed by the network. And then there's Ginger's brother Carl and Courtney's brother Blake... But not as many people seem to pick up on Miranda's feelings for Courtney. She was always really jealous of Ginger and trying to keep them apart, but it's shown that despite her mean exterior, she was actually deep, deep down a good person. But her characterization was a bit inconsistent at times...
> 
> I don't really expect anyone to really come across this- it's a very small fandom from a very old cartoon (I wish they'd release the whole series on DVD like they have been other great old cartoons like Hey Arnold!, but somehow I doubt it'll happen...Amazon doesn't even have the correct order/all the episodes as usual). But it's one of my old oneshots that I'm actually pretty proud of, so I want it here too. 
> 
> If you do happen across this work, please leave a comment/review, it always makes my day! :)


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